


Paper Crane Racing

by Star_less



Series: The Jasmine Dragon Era (A Classification ‘Verse) [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Classification AU, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Mush, Friendship, Gen, Infantilism, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Little Zuko - Freeform, Little!Zuko, Minor Original Character(s), Non-Sexual Age Play, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Origami, Slice of Life, The Gaang love Zuko, The Jasmine Dragon (Avatar), whiny Zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: All of the paper cranes had suffered some form of casualty; torn wings, ripped heads – or – in the case of Zuko's crane – ripped to pieces entirely. Zuko was going to be devastated.Zuko makes some paper cranes in the tea shop. Iroh provides a distraction. It works, until it doesn't.
Relationships: Aang & Zuko (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Katara & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Zuko
Series: The Jasmine Dragon Era (A Classification ‘Verse) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927978
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Paper Crane Racing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This fic is fluffy. It's an offshoot of my ATLA 'Little' Classification fic, Classificatory Matters. Basically it's all the disgusting fluff and mush I didn't fit into that. Zuko is a Classified Little here. He acts younger than he actually is. You don't NEED to read Classificatory Matters to read this fic, but, you just need to set the scene a little bit. :) If that doesn't float your boat, that's fine! Go find something that does. :D

Zuko sat in the farthest corner of the Jasmine Dragon – although, the only reminder of his surroundings was the sensation of his knees pressed so tightly against one another they ached. He was frozen over, studying the little red square of paper he held in a pincer-grip in both hands - and slowly, hesitantly, folded down the rightmost corner into a skinny triangle. He was trying to replicate what he had been shown, although doing so when there wasn't anybody else to guide you was trickier than he'd first realised. One of the regulars at the Jasmine Dragon, Mr Miyake, had presented Zuko with a little origami paper crane the first time they'd met. Whenever it was Uncle's turn to serve him tea Zuko loved nothing more than to watch the man – this tiny old man with his square face so wrinkled and squat it gave him a permanent scowl – pressing and folding these tiny pointed animals into life. He made it look so easy – and when Zuko had sat at his table messily trying to press a paper crane into life under gentle cooed encouragement it had certainly seemed easy, especially when he was rewarded with a slightly crumpled blue crane for his efforts.  
But then Mr Miyake had wandered into the tea shop one afternoon not to order his usual jasmine tea but to present Zuko with a gift; flapping open a book of origami sheets in all sorts of rainbow colours and patterns, and Zuko had taken this for what it was: now, it's your turn. He had also said something magical – that once you made fifty thousand paper cranes, you could make a wish, and your wish would come true. It was an exciting prospect initially - but when Zuko had torn two sheets and crumpled a third in upset the shine had dulled somewhat. "Uncle!" he called across the tea shop, his voice trilling but whiny as he continued folding down the left corner of the paper into a triangle – "I can't do it!"

"Why," said Iroh, his hand heavy but comforting against Zuko's back as he gently scrutinised his nephew's efforts. He indicated the two folded triangles. "Look, you're half way there!" 

"Will you help me?" Zuko asked softly, looking up at his uncle with glimmeringly hopeful eyes. 

He had been asking Iroh for help ever since he had gotten the blessed origami sheets. Iroh prided himself on having an endless vat of patience but the prospect of helping Zuko press fifty-thousand tiny birds made it chip away just slightly. Suddenly he had an order to run through, a stubborn cup to rinse, some boring Fire Lord related work to look over. But Iroh knew how much this meant to Zuko…  
"Of course I will, small one," he smiled, settling into the seat that was free opposite his young nephew. So long as he could eat his lunch at the same time. 

"I can't do it, see?" Zuko murmured, folding the origami sheet once more. 

"It looks perfectly fine to me, Prince Zuko!" Iroh hummed, slowly picking his way through his dumplings. Then (after a few more, slightly insistent, 'I can't do it!'s) he set his lunch tray aside, shifted himself closer to his nephew – coached him slowly through folding and pressing card, twisting it this way or that way, large palms pressed against Zuko's tiny lithe ones, guiding even the gentlest of movement as though Zuko was incapable of doing it himself, cooed out 'there we go!s' until the wings were springy, the tail was pointed, the beak was sharp, and Zuko was happy to sit and let himself be guided, melting back into the grip of his Uncle, giggling and sometimes cooing in childlike awe as before him the reddened paper crane took shape.  
…Finally, after twenty minutes of peaceful whispered work, the crane was complete, sitting lopsided in Uncle Iroh and Zuko's outstretched palms. "There!" smiled Uncle, warm and cheerful against Zuko's cheek, "You made a paper crane!"

"Great!" beamed Zuko; something swelled in his stomach, something like pride, curling and warm and all-encompassing, sort of like a hug. He smiled at the crane, his gaze crinkled, as though through thought alone he could manipulate the crane into flapping its stiff card wings and flying in wobbled rectangles around the tea-shop ceiling. "Now I have, um, forty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine to go!"

He smiled at Iroh, a smile full of teeth and hope and eternal optimism, seeming not to notice as Iroh's own smile wilted just the tiniest bit. "That might take a long time, dragonfly," he said softly, hesitation flaring. "Are you sure you want to make that many?"

"I have to!" Zuko's toothy smile fell away to a frown, "I have to, or I won't get to make a wish!"

"What are you going to wish for?" Iroh asked softly. 

Zuko stopped at this, thinking, the frown disappearing and giving way to confusion. What _was_ he going to wish for? He thought maybe he would wish for the Avatar because like a slow-growing branch his father's words continued to poke and prod at him – except he and the Avatar were friends.  
He thought of his Classification, how he was Little, and perhaps how he would wish for his father's acceptance – but found that now – with Uncle and the tea shop and all the new people he'd met – not to mention Sokka and his friends! - he didn't really care for his father's acceptance, rather the acceptance of everyone else, and in a world where Classification didn't matter, that was surprisingly easy. Hm. That meant he hadn't paid any thought to what his wish should've been at all. "I don't know," he said at last – slowly, contemplatively, picking at one of the crane's wings. "Maybe for a pet dragon! It- it could be the mascot! Of the shop!" 

The young Prince grinned, toothy and impish again, and Iroh thought that perhaps he wasn't thinking of the lack of room in the teashop for any sort of dragon, even a baby one, but rather of what colour he wanted his dragon to be.  
Nevertheless, he chuckled – what sort of a person would he be to relish in ruining Zuko's fun? "…Alright. But that's still going to take a long time. Maybe we won't be able to make all of the paper cranes today, dragonfly," he explained. He looked around the teashop, slowly. Miyake had been as helpful as he could have possibly been during his visits to the teashop, and every morning in the kitchenette Iroh was greeted by a small fleet of paper cranes. Four of them, to be exact. Five, now that Zuko had created his own. "Perhaps you can just play with your paper cranes for now?"

Zuko picked up his paper crane by the tip of one skinny wing. He studied it. It looked very fragile, too fragile for the rough and tumble play Mr Duckie (the turtleduck stuffie) and Polar Bear (the polar bear) endured. "How can I play with them?" he asked, wrinkling his nose. 

Iroh smiled, a little wryly.  
~

The cookie sat glistening under the low orange light of the tearoom, purple paste pale and glimmering crystallised sugar bursting out from between two cookies (also pale - the light of the tearoom could have put a bit of colour on them); the tiniest most intricate-looking koi fish was piped on top of the cookie. Pearls of purple poked out of the design, giving the little koi fish an odd zombie-like stare.  
One of Uncle's specialities. Or so he said. Zuko hadn't ever seen these cookies in the serving area before. He was sure Uncle Iroh had just started making them. Still, it looked like a really yummy cookie; usually, Uncle let him taste anything new to make sure the rest of the customers would like his creations – this time he hadn't. Zuko so, so hoped he'd win, so- so he'd get to taste the cookie. It was special, wasn't it?

The cookie was laid a little way past a ribbon – away from prying hands and hungry mouths, with a glass cloche laid gently on top. Uncle Iroh swept around Zuko and all of his friends, passing around straws and gently urging them in front of a coloured crane. "You are going to have a paper crane race." He explained. "The winner gets that taro cookie."

"How are they going to race?" asked Sokka softly, taking his pacifier from his mouth. His nose scrunched, confused, even more so when Iroh just chuckled at him. "They're not really real!" he added hastily, just in case the man thought so, flicking his paper crane's wing a little too harshly and watching it skitter a quarter of the way down the table. 

Iroh just chuckled again. He put Sokka's crane (blue) back at the starting position and, taking a straw from his overall, blew this great puff of air. It sounded like a very rude noise indeed – like a trumpet that had been sat on by the very large bottom of an elephant.  
Sokka spluttered and crumbled into giggles; then Zuko; then Aang.  
Then Toph, then even Katara had to cover her mouth… and while the friends laughed Iroh himself found it quite funny, laughing softly too. The paper cranes, on the other hand, had scattered down the table, clearly not sharing the joke. "Blow through the straw," Iroh indicated the paper cranes, "And your cranes will soon learn to fly! Are you ready?"

Sokka, Zuko and the rest of the team stood in stiff lines next to one another, gaze poised, posture even more so, ready for Iroh to indicate the race was to begin. "I'm going to win!" Zuko crowed, grinning toothily. He couldn't help it. The swell in his belly was too strong, too ticklish, too excited. He was Uncle's favourite, he had to win! He had to get the cookie!  
He bounced on his feet, looking around at the others, but they were too focused on their own cranes to pay any mind to his boasting; squirming, he grinned at his little crane, as though it were capable of hearing his game plan and swooping to the finish line. 

"It's anyone's game, Zuko," Iroh warned, making a chopping motion in front of the table – sort of as though he were opening a gate. "Go!"

Zuko gasped.  
He blew.  
Sokka blew.  
Katara blew.  
Everybody blew, and tooted, and trumpeted, this great big swell of rude noises rising in the teashop with everybody watching the paper cranes scatter and flop and stumble toward the finish line.  
Toph huffed and puffed until her cheeks reddened, Zuko spluttered, Sokka blew raspberries.  
Aang puffed and watched and wondered if he could cheat without anybody noticing. Not for himself (although that cookie did look yummy, admittedly) but for Zuko. He was so excited about winning Aang swore he could feel him buzzing with excitement as they stood next to one another… although the young Prince's crane didn't seem so gifted in the 'flying' department. Then again, Aang supposed not, not when his pilot was so excited and giggly he barely blew into the straw.  
Katara's crane, lilac, was first. Then Toph's, green, although that was no surprise as she was so red-cheeked with effort Aang thought she might explode; he wondered if she was cheating, too. Then there was his own crane, white, and then Sokka's, blue, both neck-and-neck with one another but not quite near winning. Zuko's crane, a crumpled pink, flopped and cartwheeled pitifully across the table behind the others. It just needed a little pick me up… just a little wisp it could glide across…  
Creeping one hand out from under the table Aang gently flicked his open palm. He was only supposed to send a little air ripple, nowhere near as big as a pulse or a burst.  
That… did not happen. Perhaps - perhaps he was too distracted to focus but – _oh_ , but this great big tunnel of air burst forward—so large and so menacingly fast it blew the five friends clean off of their feet straight onto their bottoms as if they were a tiny turret of bowling pins. The column of air did not wait for the friends to gather themselves but rather continued to tear fiercely down the length of the table; gaining intensity as it grew larger and larger, sweeping up each paper crane as it continued on its perilous journey – like an inverted twister, perhaps. Aang had just stopped seeing stars and jumped up onto his feet in time to manipulate the air tunnel before it went barrelling into the cloche at the end of the table. Next to him, Zuko groaned, staggering to his feet to survey the damage; Sokka, Katara, and Toph popped up alongside him. "What was that?!" whined Sokka, his voice a little dazed (Aang wondered if he was still seeing stars) – rubbing his rear end.

Aang was quiet. The table was, to put things politely, wrecked. The tablecloth had fallen off, the ribbon had torn, the cloche at the end of the table with the cookie beneath it was blissfully intact but yet wobbling precariously, as though it was deciding whether to spite everybody and fall off.  
All of the paper cranes had suffered some form of casualty; torn wings ripped heads – or – at least in the case of Zuko's crane – ripped to pieces entirely. Zuko was going to be devastated. It was all his fault. Aang's shoulders dropped, disappointment welling in his chest.

"…you cheated!" Katara whispered. She was admonishing him but little giggles climbed into her voice all the same. 

Aang whined softly, nudging her. "I didn't cheat for me, I did it for--!"

Zuko paid Aang no mind. In fact, the fact that their racing set-up had been destroyed was the least of his worries. He hurried to the finish line where the paper cranes lay in little tiny bitty pieces like confetti; heart beating in frantic excitement. There was one teeny weeny wing laying just past the finish line and _oh_ , he was sure it was his, it had to be  
\--and it was…

It was…!

No, w-wait. That wasn't right. It was…

"Ah!" Katara beamed, "Toph, you won!" She jostled the girl excitedly, grinning. Everybody jostled Toph and giggled and grinned excitedly for her, clustering around her and 'ooooh'ing dutifully when Iroh presented her with the tiny taro sugar cookie.

Zuko picked up the tiny slivered remnant of the paper crane wing and then threw it angrily, folding his arms. That wasn't fair. That was _his_ game, and _his_ paper cranes, and _his_ Uncle and _his_ cookies. Everybody should have been cheering and giggling and whooping for _him_! He should have won!

"Issa r'lly good cookie!" said Toph through a mouthful of crumbs, grinning. 

"Shoulda been my cookie," mumbled Zuko, turned away from the group, glowering at the floor. 

Iroh smiled, sympathetic and wry. Although he supposed Zuko needed chastising (it was just a game, after all) – he couldn't help but feel for him. "I suppose," he said softly, gazing at Zuko in that annoying way that all grown-ups did when they were going to say something that made them sound like a know it all, "…it's a good thing I made plenty of cookies for all of you, then, isn't it?"  
He still had the big glass cloche in his hands, but now that he was holding it out toward Zuko Zuko realised that there was indeed a small tower of taro cookies inside. 

Zuko gasped. Despite himself, he smiled, pressing his fingertips to the cloche. "Can I have one?"

"Why of course you can, Prince Zuko!" Iroh grinned. "You don't need to ask." He lifted the lid of the cloche and handed Zuko not one but two cookies - with a knowing smile. "Cookies for everyone!" he announced overhead to the others. They swarmed him, predictably, and for a short while afterwards the tearoom was silent; Zuko and his friends were slouched in the 'Little Corner' munching on cookies (in between mumbling, 'these cookies, so good!' (Sokka) and shouting 'thank you's and compliments to Iroh (Aang); Iroh himself was back in the kitchenette now, sending out a careful stream of orders. The customers had caught wind of the cookies Zuko and his friends were eating - not only that but they paid great attention to the compliments they were receiving, too – and now every customer wanted one with their tea. 

"My paper cranes…" mumbled Zuko, wiping the crumbs from his mouth. He looked at the destroyed cranes with new upset, as the enormity of the situation was setting in. Now he had to make fifty thousand paper cranes all by himself. Suddenly that seemed like a very big number indeed. He snuggled a little tighter to Sokka for comfort, sniffing, but didn't cry.

"M'sorry they're all broken!" Sokka's voice flared with sympathy, but he squeezed Zuko cheerfully all the same. "I know you really wanted to make a wish."

Zuko nodded a little morosely. "Only if you make fifty thousand of them," He reminded, picking at a little peeling corner of leather on the sofa. "Now there's none. Now the teashop won't ever get a pet dragon!" Now his wish would take forever and ever. Of course, given the fact that Zuko had only made a dent of five in the first place, it was going to take forever and ever anyway. But five paper cranes were better than no paper cranes!

Aang shrugged, pulling apart his cookie and chewing at the taro filling. He would have quite liked to see a dragon at the teashop. "We could always," he swallowed a great big bite, "help you make some more."

"Yeah!" Sokka grinned. "How hard can it be?"

"I don't think I can help," shrugged Toph, "But, I mean, I'll help you decide what colour you want your pet dragon to be!" 

"Really?!" squeaked Zuko, surprised.  
His friends kept their word – why would they not?; fuelled by taro cookies and tea the group folded life into several more paper cranes.  
Sure they were a little wobbly, or kinda fell apart, or a few crumbs fell into the creases, but Zuko loved them almost as much as he loved his friends themselves.


End file.
